


Reveal

by sasha_b



Series: Clan of Two [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action, Angst, Fluff, Foundling, Gen, Mando and Baby Yoda are a clan of two, Missing Scene, More Maybe? - Freeform, Post-Season/Series 01, Spoilers, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22061611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: Can the Mandalorian do what he said he'd do for the child?  No matter the cost?
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Clan of Two [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589140
Comments: 32
Kudos: 329





	Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> Set a few months post season one. Assume spoilers for all episodes.

_This planet stinks._

It literally does, the Mandalorian thinks, and kicks at a pile of rocks that rest near the side of the little hut they’ve found in the midst of one of the smelliest and most overgrown swamps he’s ever seen. It’s got to be an old planet – an old place – for the plants seem to be rotting and recycling themselves and it’s mushy to the touch and _stars_ but he can’t seem to find any place that’s right.

Not right for the kid, at any rate.

Said kid is playing in the mud behind him; the sounds he makes are somewhat soothing to Din’s practiced ear, and he can keep one bit of focus on the kid as he looks around at the last lead he’d been able to dig up.

He sighs, the sound metallic behind the Beskar, at the condition of the hut that their map had lead them to. It’s decrepit and fallen in and yet there are signs that someone – something – had lived here. There are broken pots and signs of cooking and storage in the wreckage, and as Din sifts through it, squatting to look at the detritus of someone else’s life with gloved fingers, the kid makes a querulous sound and he turns his helmeted head back to look at him.

“You see something?”

The kid cocks his head and makes that face that has Din alternately groaning or wanting to hug the boy; he’s his _ad’ika_ , yes, and that’s a good and bad thing, for Din knows what it’s like to be alone. But sometimes Din wonders if it’s going to be too dangerous for the kid, and _will he hate me when he’s older for making him live a life on the run constantly?_

That would be worse than most everything, and Din shakes his head, rises, and kneels down next to the child. The baby is looking at a clump of very dark green and very tangled brush that rests at the base of a giant, white, old gnarled tree, and he points at it, waving his fingers in a way that reminds the Mando of Greef Carga, and then Cara. And then Gideon, and his mouth becomes a pinched line that almost disappears.

_Do the magic hand thing, baby!_

He bites his lip. What does he know about the Force? Only the bit that he’s read. He’s got to find someone or something to help them both.

He cocks an eyebrow under the armor, even though the kid can’t see it. “What’s there? You see something?” he repeats his question, knowing the kid won’t answer, but he puts his hand on the kid’s back and leans over. “I don’t like the feel of this place,” he adds. “Something died here.” The kid is ignoring him now, though, and he wobbles to a stand and waddles over toward the giant tree and vegetation that Din is getting a very bad feeling about.

“Hey,” he says, and stands up. “Hey, little one, not a good idea. Let me go first.” He catches up with the child in a few strides and draws his blaster, the hackles rising at the base of his neck. The kid gurgles and holds on to his leg, and Din takes another step. The filtered sunlight that shines watery through the ancient and thick trees lights the way just enough to show shadows and –

“Shit!”

The Mando snatches the kid up and stumbles backwards, and the eight limbs and multiple eyes of the biggest, ugliest spider he’s ever seen explode out of the brush and the tree _moves_. The legs of the monster bug reach for them, the white of their hairy skin a great dupe for tree legs. The kid shrieks and claws at his cloak, Din choking as he raises his blaster and rapid fires at the thing.

The trees around them come alive - _oh shit they’re all bugs_ \- and he almost falls as he turns and runs as fast as he’s ever run in his life, the child bouncing and yelling and he can see the ‘Crest, close enough and he shoots backward as five enormous white spiders follow the first one, their beady eyes glinting as he and the kid book it toward the ship. He slams the controls on his wrist guard and the side door begins to slide open, the thing moving too slowly and Din fires again and the kid shrieks and grips tighter and the spiders are almost at his heels and the sun chooses this moment to blind him, glinting off the hull even through his visor and his boots are suddenly pounding up the gangplank. He punches the **close** control on the wall and the door slips shut, one leg of a spider sliding in at the last second, and he fires at it even as the heavy metal of the ‘Crest’s door snaps it off, leaving a bloody, furry, awful appendage on his floor.

He ignores it for the moment, and taking the ladder two steps at a time, flies into the cockpit, fires up the engines and lifts the ship off, the heat and blast from the engines taking out two more of the monsters as they attempt to climb the hull. The moment he gains outer atmosphere he guns it, and he and the kid leave behind Dagobah and whatever answers there might have been there.

His hands are shaking as he sets the autopilot and he suddenly realizes the kid is still clinging to his neck, and he leans forward, murmuring an apology for almost smushing him, and he takes him into a left armed hold and sits still for a moment, letting the adrenaline run its course through him and his trembling to still. The stars are bright and all around them as they put the stinky, ancient planet behind, and the kid looks up at him and his huge eyes are a tad watery, and Din sucks in a large breath, thinking _please, no._

He feels sweat run down his face, his hair beneath the helmet damp, but he runs a finger over one of the little one’s ears, a gesture he hopes is soothing. “Sorry about that scare. You knew they were there, huh?” The kid’s ears droop and _thank the stars_ he seems to not want to cry anymore, and Din slips a hand under the wraps at his own throat, catching some of the sweat with his glove, and then lets the hand drop to his leg with a smack. “What the hell were those things? And damn it, that was the only lead I had.”  
  
Holding the baby still, he leans forward and turns on the holo, replaying the last call he’d had from one of his few contacts that aren’t involved with anything to do with the guild or the imps, and yeah, that had been the last information about any Jedi or any information on a people that might know more about the kid or where he might have come from.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he says, jiggling the little guy a bit. “I had hopes for this one.” He swallows and stands, sliding past the command chair, and taking the child with him, heads down the ladder and into the hold where his meager quarters are, and the bit of food he has left. He knows they’re going to have to stop somewhere soon to resupply, and the ‘Crest could use a good work over too.

He briefly considers Tattooine, as the woman mechanic there had seemed trustworthy. But then he thinks of the amount of hunters in Mos Eisley and especially Mos Espa, and discards that idea. He’ll have to see what other, less populated places he’s near.  
But first, he needs to feed the kid, because he’s making rumbling noises and –

“Hey, don’t eat that!”

The kid is chewing on Din’s cloak, and he spits it out with a face that makes a laugh chug up from somewhere that Din usually has locked away. “Come on, womp rat. I have enough real food left so you don’t have to eat my clothes.” They sit at the small table as Din begins to dig through what’s left from their last planetary stop.

*

Once the baby is asleep, the Mando approaches the spider’s leg that’s left on the floor of his hold. He kicks it once; not that he expects it to move, but still. Picking it up between two fingers, he examines it, and then stores it in the locker with the carbonite supplies, freezing it quickly for future reference. He knows there are all kinds of creatures he’s never seen, plenty of planets he’s never been to, but this thing…horrid. And had almost eaten them both.

And the kid had seemed to know it was there, and yet hadn’t been afraid. Din worries about that; the kid is an innocent, and too trusting, and _he’s going to get really hurt if I don’t find help for him. And soon._

The armorer had told him to raise the boy or find his people. Din had dug into every last contact he had in order to get the meagerist of leads, of which Dagobah had been a last shot. And while his connection had told him a bit about the story behind that planet and the possible truth of what the Jedi had to do with it, they’d had to leave too quickly and without anything useful.

He sighs, and checking that the child is asleep for sure, he sits on his own bunk and slowly removes his helmet, the sweat from their day caked on his skin, dirt and muck in dried rivulets marking him. He wipes at it clumsily - _I think I’m more tired than I thought_ \- and he takes his gloves off as well, his thought to wash and then eat something before he bunks for the night.

He stands and sways over to the small hygiene station, his stomach suddenly rumbling, and splashes water over his face and neck, his gloves hooked over his belt, his head aching. He lets the warm water drip momentarily, the piece of electrum mirror that hangs perfunctorily over the sink not necessary, as Din doesn’t look at himself. Ever, really. Only to shave, and that’s something he’s done for so long he doesn’t truly need the mirror regardless. Why look? No one has seen him since he was a child himself.

Save the IG unit.

He straightens up suddenly, almost catching the corner of his head on the mirror, water still running down his cheeks, remembering that moment and the thought and surety he’d had he was going to die. Cara had wanted to help him; she’d begged for him to let her, and he still isn’t sure why the ex-shock trooper had cared that much.

He’s a grateful warrior – he tries to be a good person and loyal to the ones that show him loyalty in return. This is the way of the Mandalorian. But after the manner he’s lived his life in for so long, he just doesn’t see how anyone could care _that_ much. But the damn droid – stars, he hadn’t wanted to take his helmet off. He’d wanted a warrior’s death, a clean death. But instead he’d thought of Cara, and the others of his Covert, and then, in big flashing bright thoughts, the kid.

He couldn’t leave the kid. Even if it meant showing his face to the droid. They were a clan of two, and that meant more to Din than pretty much anything else.

Even showing his true face.

Oh, gods. The truth is shocking, and it makes him sway again and look down with horrid realization.

He had wanted to show his face to Omera, and he’d wanted to stay on Sorgan with her and the other children and his own foundling, and that had been before the armorer had even said anything to him, and that had been before he’d thought he’d die and he couldn’t bear the thought and he suddenly swallows, bile burning in his gut, a weird, twisting feeling of _I’m breaking the code with my thoughts_ echoing.

He’s a coward, and he’s not worthy of the sigil that rests on his right pauldron, and no matter that he knows the way, that it’s buried in his brain and body and blood, he wants the kid with him more. He wants the kid to be happy, and safe.

“Foundlings are the future,” he whispers, almost choking with emotion. He had told the armorer he’d do what she said, but at what cost to him and his way of life? Can he trust that he won’t betray the kid or let him die because he cares about his new _ad’ika_ more than he does his warrior code? And how damn dangerous is that?

_I’ve never let anyone see me. Not in decades._

There’s a sound behind him, and he turns, and the kid is standing in the little cradle Kuiil had made, and Din realizes too late he’s removed his helmet and the little one hasn’t ever seen his face before. And the decision is made for him.

He crosses to the boy, and squats to be on his level. The green head tilts back and forth and a small green hand lifts, its clawed fingers reaching for the Mando’s bare face.

Din can hear the silent whoosh of the engines and feels the ‘Crest vibrating familiarly around him. He’s in his element, his home, but this? This is something he’s never experienced. His knees begin to ache, but he stays where he is, choice made.

The little hand is softer than he’d thought it would be against his skin, the claws gentle and he shuts his eyes as the kid holds his fingers against Din’s face. Din's gripping the edges of the cradle, and his knuckles are white and the kid makes a tiny chirp of confusion and Din opens his eyes, the dark irises slightly damp even though he’d never admit it. He touches the child’s ear in return, and the little thing half masts his own eyes, and Din swallows and tries a smile, rusty and weird feeling.

The child’s noises become more soft and happy sounding, and Mando lets his smile drop even though he’s not afraid to have tried it. He traces the downy ear again and goes to one knee in front of the little one. The ship hums and rocks around them, but he only focuses on the helpless creature in front of him.

“Dagobah was a bust,” he tells the kid, his voice sure and strong. “I’m not giving up, though. How about you?”

The baby opens his eyes wider and Din is shocked when he _nods_ at him.

Then he gurgles and lifts a hand and something bumps into Din’s back.

It’s his helmet, and he plucks it out of the air, tucking it under his arm, and stands, picking the small body up, cradling the boy tight to his free side. “I’ll help you,” he says. “We are two, together. And this is the way.”

He’s terrified, he realizes as he climbs the ladder with the baby, and lets the kid sit on his lap as he finally slides his helmet back on, taking over control of the ‘Crest from the autopilot. The kid is playing with the Mythosaur charm he’s been wearing, and Din, after searching the maps for a bit, finds a decent looking planet for them to try and refuel and find supplies on. He’s terrified, and that’s fine. He’s been much more scared before, but this time?

This time, he has something that matters and that is depending on him for survival. Something that cares about him, for the gods’ own reasons, and he won’t lose sight of that. Even if it means making changes he’s never thought he could.

He sets course for the planet he’s chosen and starts to research the records from Mandalore that he has on the ship, beginning to read about the Jedi and the Force.

The kid coos, and he looks down at him. The green ears are relaxed and the little one is holding to the front of his tunic that peeks through the Beskar armor he wears. The big eyes meet his own through the helmet, and he knows.

The ‘Crest’s engines flare, and he kicks the hyperdrive into gear, and he remembers his own adoption into the Covert, and he _understands_.

Choice made.

~

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, new fandom smell!
> 
> As a life long SW fan, this has been a joy and terrifying to try and jump into such a huge fandom with such a huge group of talented writers. The only other big fandom I've written for before is X-Men, and that was amazing if sometimes hard and scary.
> 
> While I have been a fan of this 'verse since I was 7 (I was born in 1970 and thus had no choice :p), I would not say I'm the most expert on the detailed history of the races and of the EU for Star Wars. Forgive any mistakes.
> 
> I researched Mando'a and just used _ad'ika_ a few times, which means roughly "son or daughter." I really like the concept of Mando/Din thinking of the kid in this way. And just how hard it might be for him to accept that he's no longer alone. I also looked up possible creatures on Dagobah and liked the idea of the white spiders. Yuck. LOL. Also using the Mando's given name here, Din Djarin.
> 
> I also loathe summaries and am terrible at them. Apologies.
> 
> Thank you in advance to anyone who gives this a read or comment. This seems like a wonderful fandom to be a part of. I hope to continue!


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